Travel
by InSilva
Summary: Set after O13.  Good guys, bad guy, diamonds, money and fun.  Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Travel by InSilva

Disclaimer: characters aren't mine, just borrowing them.

Summary: Set post-O13. Good guys, a bad guy, diamonds, money and fun.

A/N: this is otherhawk birthday fic. And it's very late. So late, that it has become otherhawk Christmas fic.

A/N: most of this was written in my head while travelling. Hope it works on paper. :)

A/N: Day 17 of the 2011 Advent Calendar. And this is probably, truthfully, a one-shot that has ideas above its station. But since I haven't finished writing it and I'm going out to a works Christmas do, the choice is a first chapter this or the fic that is dark, weird and frankly ludicrous. None of us want me to be publishing that one. ;)

* * *

><p>His phone was ringing and she knew better than to leave it unanswered. In this life, sometimes there was only the chance for one call.<p>

"Yes?"

There was a long pause and she waited patiently for the other person to digest the fact that this was a female voice.

"Isabel?"

"Yes." Amused.

"I didn't mean...is Rusty there?"

"Showering." The voice was familiar but she couldn't pinpoint it. "Who is this?"

"Oh... look...it's OK...it doesn't really...I'll catch up with him later..."

The line went dead and she stared down at the phone, looking up only as Robert emerged from the bathroom, towelling himself down.

"Who was it?"

She shrugged. "Mystery caller. Wanted to speak to you and then changed their mind."

"Probably wanted to ask what colour underwear I'm wearing."

"That could explain why they hung up when I said you were in the shower," Isabel nodded then added, "I recognised the voice."

She saw the thoughtful look on Robert's face. That moment of consideration and contemplation and someday, she might have to tell him how attractive he looked when his mind was wandering.

"Tell me what they said."

* * *

><p>Clutching groceries and fumbling for his keys, he rounded the corner of the stairs and ran straight into Rusty.<p>

"Hi," he said, blinking.

"Hello, Livingston," Rusty smiled, lifting the bag out of his arms.

"Everything OK? Is there…I mean…" Livingston looked around nervously. "We'd better talk inside."

Door shut, coffee made and Oreos liberated from the bag of groceries, the pair of them sat in the small, neat living area with its modern white walls and comfortable leather couches.

"I see you started spending the money at last," Rusty said, in between bites of cookie.

"Yes. Col – my brother – moved back home and I thought I would… Not that I don't _like_… It's just easier to work."

Without any awkward questions. Rusty nodded.

"So…Rus…what's the job?"

"There is no job."

Livingston frowned. "Then why…?"

"You called me," Rusty said simply, sipping coffee.

The frown melted from Livingston's face and Rusty watched as his expression worked its way through shock, puzzlement and settled on complete lack of surprise.

"I was going to call you back. You know, later."

There was something in Livingston's voice and the way that Livingston was studying his coffee that intrigued.

"I was showering," Rusty said.

"Isabel said," Livingston nodded vigorously. He still wasn't looking anywhere near Rusty's eyes. Rusty frowned.

"Livingston, I was in the shower."

This time Livingston did look at him. "Really?" Livingston digested the information and then reddened and muttered something low and mostly unintelligible apart from the words _"some kind of euphemism"_.

Rusty blinked and then shook his head and grinned. "Oh, really, really not. So what did you want to tell me?"

"It's a long story," Livingston sighed.

Rusty glanced at the packet of Oreos. "Who's in a rush?"

* * *

><p>Turned out the story was all about Livingston's <em>other<em> work. Being hired by the FBI to help them bring down the nastier elements of society. Most of the Feds ignored Livingston and many talked down to him but some were friendly enough that Livingston enjoyed his time in the van.

One of them was called Jimmy Allen.

"_He's a nice guy, Rusty. Always shared the doughnuts."_

_Guiltily, Rusty held out the Oreos. _

Jimmy wasn't far off retirement and was full of plans for ways to spend his pension. And the only fly in Jimmy's glass of champagne was a senior young gun called Dominic Kincaid. Who was really _not_ such a nice guy.

"_I've never worked with him but I've caught the name and the whispers. Kincaid works dirty."  
><em>

Livingston had found Jimmy crying over a nearly empty bottle of tequila in the back of a bar and the tale fell out of him in between sobs and shots.

Kincaid's party trick was to make sure he got a share every time he busted anyone with cash. To date, he hadn't been overly greedy and he hadn't been caught. Who knew how much should be in a drug dealer's briefcase anyway? It wasn't like the drug dealer was going to complain.

"_Nothing proven. Just whispers."  
><em>

"_An untouchable crooked Fed," Rusty nodded. "My favourite kind."_

Jimmy had heard the rumours: two weeks ago, he'd walked in on Kincaid helping himself.

"_Jimmy's an honest cop - he can't turn a blind eye so he challenged him. Kincaid just smiled and said Jimmy might want to sleep on it."_

Jimmy had hesitated and decided not to say anything until he worked out whose word was going to be believed. Whilst he was busy keeping silent, he found out that Kincaid took exception to people taking exception to him. He'd tracked Jimmy down and threatened to make sure that Jimmy was kicked out of the Bureau in disgrace if Jimmy made a formal complaint against him.

"_No pension," Rusty said softly._

"_No plans," Livingston added._

"_So Jimmy just keeps his head down and says nothing."_

"_Well…it's not as easy as that."_

What complicated things was that there was now a hundred grand of stolen money sitting in a bank account with Jimmy's name on it. And unless Jimmy helped Kincaid move some stolen goods-

"_Jimmy's out on the street with no visible means. And if he _does_ help Kincaid-"_

"_Then he's an accomplice," Livingston nodded and hesitated. "I know he's a cop, Rus, but he's a good guy. He doesn't deserve any of this."_

_A brilliant smile shone his way. "We'll sort it, Livingston."_

* * *

><p>Some phone calls later and Danny was lined up to play host to a roomful of familiar faces. Rusty arrived to find a buffet set up in the dining room. Homemade quiches, salads, fish, meat… Turk and Virgil already had dangerously laden plates and Basher was carefully encouraging some salmon onto a pile of rice.<p>

"Wow," Rusty murmured.

"She said people might be hungry," Danny shrugged.

"She's right."

Danny looked at him. "Not just you."

"Where is she?"

"I suggested she stay at a friend's."

Rusty nodded slowly. That made sense. Tess would cater, would make sure all guests were looked after but she wouldn't want to stay for the illegal. Clear compartments of life that Tess could comfortably live with-

Tess walked through the door from the kitchen clutching a tray of drinks, heading towards Saul and Reuben, flashing him a smile and bringing Rusty's thought process to a skidding halt.

"I suggested it," Danny murmured. "She told me the _"for better, for worse"_meant she wasn't going anywhere this time around."

Rusty heard the wonder and the pride and the happy and smiled. "She's quite a girl."

Danny nodded complete, adoring agreement.

"Well, that makes this kind of easier."

_Makes…?_

Isabel walked through the door, arm-in-arm with Frank, deep in lively discussion.

"Told me she didn't care if it was her fight or not," Rusty said, crooking a soft smile. "Said she wanted to help if she could and if she couldn't, at least she could come say hi."

Danny sighed and Rusty knew he was thinking about the long months of the Bank job. "Feel guilty much?"

"Little bit," Rusty admitted.

"Mmm." Danny considered. "New ways of working."

And they'd take a bit of getting used to.

* * *

><p>"Alright, everyone," Danny brought them all to attention. "Time for show and tell. Our mark today is brought to us courtesy of Livingston."<p>

Livingston blinked heavily and gave a small smile of acknowledgement. Danny smiled back.

"He's an unpleasant piece of work called Dominic Kincaid, a Federal Agent who enjoys the finer things in life and who indulges in such pastimes as embezzlement and blackmail. He's currently trying to encourage a colleague to join him in a spot of fencing."

"Not the kind with swords," Rusty clarified.

"Nor the white picket sort," Danny added. "And by way of encouragement, Kincaid has set his colleague up with a little trust fund."

"To the tune of a hundred grand."

"Which authorities are going to find very musical."

Yen interjected and Rusty shook his head.

"We haven't got the details of the bank account. Yet."

Danny nodded. "That's one of the things we're going after. We're operating to a tight schedule. In two days' time, Kincaid's heading to London to meet a Hatton Garden jeweller called Rosenbaum who wants to move some diamonds that are scorching holes in his safe. Kincaid's buying them with some loose cash he found lying around that doesn't belong to him. Somewhere in the region of half a million dollars."

Turk let out a low whistle.

"Sorry, Turk." Rusty sounded almost apologetic. "Money's dirty. It hasn't been catalogued but at least some of it is going to be sequential."

Making it identifiable. Making it untouchable.

Danny went on, "Stopping Kincaid is going to mean calling in a few favours and it's going to be resource heavy. We need to be careful and precise. And I already mentioned that the clock was ticking, right?"

Eyes were riveted to him. Even Tess and Isabel for whom this was a first were watching him unblinking. Peripherally, he caught sight of the affectionate amusement on Rusty's face.

"So right now, Daniel, you are going to tell us how we achieve the impossible."

Statement.

Fact.

Danny smiled at Saul. "This is what we do."

* * *

><p><em>One day later…<em>

"Cindy." Rusty took the hand of the girl behind the check-in desk and kissed it. "It's been too long."

Cindy sparkled at him. "Five years and three months to be exact. Not that I'm counting."

Rusty grinned and green eyes told him he was forgiven.

"Don't tell me. You're after a favour." She shook her head as the grin widened. "Oh, I can read you like a book, Rusty Ryan. Seem to recall last time it was misdirecting someone's case."

"To-

"-Doha. Far, far away from Dallas." Cindy tilted her head on one side. "So what do you want this time?"

Rusty slid the folded up piece of paper with the name across the desk. "I want to sit next to this man on the 7.00am flight to London tomorrow morning."

"Really? A man?" Cindy pouted. She glanced at the name and sighed. "Really a man."

She looked up at Rusty. "Tell me I'm not playing Cupid."

"You're not playing Cupid."

Dimples appeared. "Does that mean I have a date tonight?"

"Oh, Cindy…" There was respectful regret in there.

The sigh was deep and heavy. "Oh, Rusty... Well, she's a lucky girl. It is a girl, right?"

"It's a girl," Rusty assured her.

"She's a _lucky _girl," Cindy said with emphasis. She glanced down again at the name. "I'll get you sat next to him."

"Thanks, Cindy." He kissed her hand once more. "And there's one more thing."

Rusty handed over a tiny can of spray. Cindy understood immediately.

"X marks the spot, right?"

"Right."

"One day I'm going to find out _exactly_ what you do."

"One day," Rusty promised. "See you tomorrow at check in."

Cindy watched him walk away wistfully. "_Extremely _lucky girl."

* * *

><p>Dominic Kincaid was in his thirties and wore Armani and a supercilious air. He threw his attaché case up in the overhead locker, then lounged in his first-class seat, demanding champagne before the plane took off, snatching the glass from the stewardess without so much as a thank you.<p>

He didn't pay attention to the safety demonstration, choosing instead to talk loudly on his mobile phone. He continued to do so even after the announcement that all electronic equipment needed to be turned off for take-off. He must have felt Rusty's eyes on him.

Kincaid flashed him a smile. "I don't think they mean _every_thing, do they?"

Sitting in the neighbouring seat, Rusty smiled back, warm and friendly, joining in the joke and tried not to think about the expression on Danny's face two seats back.

* * *

><p>By the end of the flight, Kincaid had become firm acquaintances with Zeke Crawford sitting next to him. They'd compared notes on different capital cities – the best places to stay and the finest restaurants; they'd discovered mutual likes and dislikes – buttery smooth Shiraz was a yes but <em>fizzy<em> Shiraz abhorrence.

"Where are you staying in London?" Zeke asked as they walked into the terminal at Heathrow and joined the passport control line.

Kincaid's face grew sly. "Got a special deal. Staying at the Dorchester for a quarter of the rack rate."

Zeke let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a real bargain."

"What about you?"

"Oh, well, I'm in property. I bought some rather elegant apartments just off Park Lane a couple of years ago for a rock bottom price. Look." Zeke fished in his pocket for his business card and scribbled an address on the back of it. "I'm only round the corner from the Dorchester. Look me up if you get bored."

Kincaid took the card and put it in his wallet. "I might do at that."

He frowned as a dark-haired, bespectacled man was invited to go through fast track by a smiling blonde member of groundcrew. "He was on our flight. Look at him cutting line."

Zeke shook his head. "Some guys get all the luck."

"He probably slept with her last time he was in London," Kincaid said sourly.

"Yeah," Zeke murmured. "He probably did."

* * *

><p>AN: more later. Probably next week. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Travel by InSilva

Disclaimer: am not the Oceanworld creator. Or any other world creator.

A/N: Door 20 of the 2011 Advent Calendar

Chapter Two

* * *

><p>Having cleared passport control in double quick time, Danny strode into the baggage reclaim hall where suitcases were starting to make their way round the conveyor belt. This was one element of the plan they hadn't been able to guarantee but they had contingency. Earlier planes had brought the others to Heathrow and Reuben and Frank were in the hall, loitering with intent to delay if necessary.<p>

It wasn't necessary. As the luggage started to arrive, the very first case bore a large X, invisible to anyone not wearing the spectacles that Danny was. Frank appeared at his side with a trolley with a long zip-up holdall on it as Danny waited for the conveyor belt to swing round.

"The twins say that when you walk out of here, to look to your right," Frank said in a low voice and hesitated. "Actually, there was a bit of an argument about it. And then you need to head to the facilities near WH Smith."

"WH Smith? Sounds like a Reverend," Danny murmured as he smoothly lifted the suitcase off the conveyor belt, added it to the trolley and headed towards the "Nothing to declare" channel.

Outside, he looked to his right and saw nothing. Then he thought about left and right depending on which way you were facing and checked the other side of the crowd.

"Hello, gentlemen," Danny said, walking up to the sign asking for _"Dominic Kincaid"._

* * *

><p>Back in baggage reclaim, Kincaid was scowling at his lack of suitcase. Zeke pulled his own holdall off the belt and gave Kincaid a sympathetic glance.<p>

"Tough luck, man."

The scowl deepened. Wasn't like there was anything in the case that he needed but it was inconvenient. He would like a change of clothes, thank you very much.

"It's probably on a later flight," Zeke suggested. "Report it missing and give them your details and it'll roll up in a couple of hours-"

"I _know _how the system works," Kincaid growled and Zeke put up a pacifying hand.

"Sorry. Just trying to be helpful."

"Yeah. Yeah." Kincaid told himself to calm down. "Sorry for snapping. Good to meet you."

They shook hands and Kincaid headed for the lost luggage office. When he arrived, he bumped into a flamboyantly dressed man stood outside, rolling a coin in between his fingers.

"You lost your case too?" A fellow American. "Goddamned airlines."

Kincaid smiled thinly in agreement. "Definitely relate to that sentiment."

"Say! You're from the US of A!" The American's face lit up. "We've got to stick together, you know."

And annoyingly, the American decided to do just that; latching on to him as they stood in line and keeping up inane chatter. He wasn't taking any hints as Kincaid tried to burn him off. Kincaid itched to tell him where the fuck to go but in the end, it seemed easier to ignore him: the line was short and he was next.

Impatiently, Kincaid gave details of the flight and the missing case, scribbling his contact details down on a form and then hurried out. He didn't want to keep Rosenbaum's men waiting.

He was unaware of his new best friend sitting down in the chair he'd vacated; smiling at the official behind the desk; spinning the coin accidentally over the wrong side of the desk so that the official went to retrieve it; distracting him while he reached over and changed a couple of figures in Kincard's mobile phone number.

* * *

><p>Rosenbaum's men were a pace behind him as Danny forged through the morning crowds at the airport. He was focusing on portraying <em>"arrogant bastard" <em>and it was a look that seemed to be working for him.

"Need to take a leak and freshen up," Danny said, steering the luggage trolley towards the toilets near WH Smith's.

"We can look after your luggage, Mr Kincaid," one of them offered.

"Sure you can." There was just the right amount of sneer in there. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take it with me."

"Suit yourself," the other one shrugged.

Inside the men's room, Danny parked the trolley by the sinks and knocked smartly on the nearest closed door.

"What the hell?" growled a voice from inside.

Wrong door.

"Sorry," Danny muttered then turned and knocked on the door opposite. It swung open and Yen emerged.

"Where the fuck you been?" he demanded, following Danny back to the trolley.

"Don't start."

Danny unzipped the holdall and with an exaggerated sigh, Yen folded himself into it and allowed himself to be shut up in a bag once more.

* * *

><p>Outside in the arrival hall, Kincaid found two men with a sign with his name on.<p>

"You got any luggage, Mr Kincaid?" one of them asked respectfully.

"No," Kincaid said shortly. "Just this." He held up the attaché case. "Take me to Rosenbaum."

"Our pleasure, sir," said the other man.

Kincaid frowned. "You guys American?"

"Home from home Mr Rosenbaum said. This is Keith," a gesture towards the shorter man. "And I'm Jake."

Kincaid shook his head impatiently. He wasn't bothered with names. "Let's get going."

The car pulled up outside the Ritz. Kincaid nodded to himself. He expected nothing less. KeithorJake opened the door and escorted him across the lobby and into the elevator and up to one of the suites there. A suite at the Ritz. _Exactly _what he expected of a high-class act like Rosenbaum.

The door to the suite sprung open before KeithorJake could knock on the door. A young man in a turtleneck and wearing thick black-rimmed spectacles stood in the doorway and gave him a searching look.

"Mr Kincaid, I presume?"

The voice was soft and gentle and none the less menacing for that. Kincaid blinked. The man didn't _look _imposing but one thing Kincaid had never taken for granted was appearances. Take that Jimmy Allen. The guy looked like he wouldn't say boo to a goose but he'd still had the balls to try and ruin Kincaid's party.

"Yes, I'm Kincaid," he replied, allowing a hint of aggression into his response.

A thoughtful eyebrow was raised and Kincaid could almost see the calculation in the man's face. Like he was being weighed up and analysed. It made him feel uncomfortable which was probably the point. He forced himself to smile, to take the macho back out of his introduction and he saw a hint of amusement in the other man's eyes. Damn it.

The man didn't introduce himself. Instead, he said, "Mr Rosenbaum will see you now" before stepping aside to let Kincaid step into the room.

* * *

><p>"Mr Rosenbaum will see you now," the secretary announced and Danny stepped into the jeweller's office.<p>

"Mr Kincaid!" The small, smiling man practically bounced across the room to greet him. "So very pleased you could make it. So very pleased. Do come in. Yes, yes, please bring in your luggage too. Come in. Have some refreshments. I have Turkish delight and sugared almonds, yes?"

The case and the holdall were left against the wall and Danny sat down in a comfortable chair in front of a desk covered with sweetmeats.

"No thanks." Danny dismissed the plate of sweets offered. "I don't care for sugar. It rots teeth and adds pounds. But I'm sure you know that."

Rosenbaum smiled, his mouth full of gold teeth, and the smile was just that little bit less genuine.

"You will forgive me, Mr Kincaid, if I indulge?"

"Knock yourself out," Danny shrugged as Rosenbaum popped a large piece of sugar-encrusted Turkish delight into his mouth. "After a certain point, I doubt it matters."

Rosenbaum's eyes narrowed. "You wish to get down to business, Mr Kincaid?"

"That's what I'm here for." There was impatience and boredom all wrapped up in there.

Rosenbaum cleared a space in between the plates and then unlocked the wall safe and extracted a small black velvet bag. He upended it and there was a blaze of brilliant fire spreading across the dark mahogany.

"As I explained, these are high-carat jewels that form part of an ongoing investigation. It behoves me to pass them on to a deserving new owner."

Danny grunted. "For a sizeable fee."

"They are worth a deal more than that as we both know."

"Mmm." Danny's nose wrinkled slightly. "Let me be the judge of that."

He held out his hand expectantly and could feel the frown from Rosenbaum who nevertheless handed him a loupe and let him scoop up a handful of white dazzle and study it.

"Not bad, not bad," was Danny's grudging verdict.

Rosenbaum was biting back on the retort. Kincaid, after all, was going to give him half a million dollars _and _take these too-hot-to-handle diamonds away. There was a long pause and then Rosenbaum cracked.

"Well?"

Danny tipped the jewels back out of his hand and on to the desk. "Well, I'm not one to make my mind up on an empty stomach."

He looked expectantly at Rosenbaum.

"We could go for a meal?" Rosenbaum offered cautiously.

"I think we could," Danny nodded and stood up. "Somewhere I can make up my mind without the distraction of cheap décor and poor cooking."

Rosenbaum got it. He scooped up the diamonds, put them back in their bag and dropped them into the safe, spinning the wheel as he closed it.

"Let me treat you, Mr Kincaid."

Danny smiled without the smile reaching his eyes. "I like treats." He gestured at his luggage. "What about these?"

"You can leave them here," Rosenbaum offered, adding hastily, "I will lock my office and my men will stand outside."

Danny gave a shrug. "I suppose that's acceptable."

* * *

><p>Over at the Ritz, Kincaid was sitting in an armchair in silence in front of the man with the basilisk eyes and jowly cheeks and telling himself to sit unflinching under the scrutiny. It was tricky when the young man with the black-rimmed spectacles was slouched casually up against the wall, watching him wordlessly.<p>

Bodyguard, obviously enough. And in Kincaid's experience, it was the ones who didn't say much who were the most dangerous. The guy was probably even now working out how he would disembowel him with his bare hands. Kincaid's mouth tightened.

Eventually, the old man cleared his throat. "You've travelled a long way to see me, Mr Kincaid."

Rosenbaum's voice commanded respect. Funny but this wasn't how he'd come across on the phone. The phone voice had suggested some quirky little guy who would be a pushover. An act, Kincaid told himself ruefully, to let you think you had the edge and then wham! You felt like you were in some kind of interrogation room. Kincaid had been hoping to drive the price down when he got here: now he wasn't so sure Rosenbaum wouldn't be looking to drive the price up.

Rosenbaum was waiting for an answer, he realised.

"You've been recommended to me, Mr Rosenbaum. We can help one another out, I think."

There was a grunt from the other man in the armchair opposite. Then Rosenbaum lifted a hand and KeithorJake was there in an instant to move the little side-table so that it sat between them. Rosenbaum produced a bulky black jewel roll which he laid on the table, untied and unfurled.

There were diamonds within. Kincaid's eyes were drawn to the glitz and the gleam. They were bigger than he'd imagined and in his head, he was already doing the calculations that netted him at least a 7:1 return on investment. After this exchange, he'd be set up for life.

He reached over to pick up one of the gems and there was a polite but warning cough from Rosenbaum. Kincaid remembered himself.

"Here," he said hurriedly, opening up the attaché case and removing the X-ray resistant lining and exposing row after row of neat little bundles of cash. It looked impressive. He expected Rosenbaum to be impressed.

There was a non-committal noise and Rosenbaum made a beckoning gesture and KeithorJake picked up the attaché case and deposited it on the jeweller's knee. The old man picked up one of the bundles and riffled through it. It was a cursory examination and Kincaid started to frown and stopped himself. Up to Rosenbaum if he didn't want to check.

Rosenbaum threw the cash back in the case. "We do not want to waste each other's time, do we, Mr Kincaid? Any double-cross and…I don't think we want a double-cross, do we?"

Kincaid was no coward. He made a good account of himself in any fight. But…Kincaid's eyes flickered to the Bodyguard. No... No… They probably didn't.

He reached over and picked up one of the diamonds and stared at it. Truth was, he wasn't too sure what he was looking for. Cash, he knew about but diamonds… The stone was cut well and it seemed clean enough…

Kincaid glanced at Rosenbaum who was staring at him unblinking. Seemed like he was waiting for an answer. Rosenbaum came highly recommended and Kincaid trusted his sources and the diamonds _were_ fabulous… On the other hand this was a cool half mill involved. OK, maybe he hadn't _earned _the half mill but he'd worked hard enough to accrue it.

Rosenbaum beckoned the Bodyguard over and whispered something in the man's ear. The Bodyguard's keen gaze grew impossibly keener. Rosenbaum looked away, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Kincaid frowned and then he saw the Bodyguard smiling straight at him.

"Mr Rosenbaum would like to know if you have finished your inspection," he asked in that soft, menacing voice.

"Well…kind of…"

"Mr Rosenbaum says that he understood you to be a serious man."

Oh, shit. They thought he was a time-waster. "I can assure you, Mr Rosenbaum-"

The Bodyguard cut across him. "Mr Rosenbaum only deals with serious men. He is himself a serious man."

Yeah. Kincaid had worked that one out just as clearly as he could work out that this deal was about to disappear.

"I am serious," he said quickly. "I want to make the deal."

There was a long pause as the Bodyguard looked at him thoughtfully and then the Bodyguard melted into the background once more and Rosenbaum had turned back towards him and was holding a hand out like nothing had happened. Relief ran down Kincaid's spine. He shook the hand and then the money was being stripped out of the attaché case and he carefully transferred the jewels into it.

Deal done.

"Thank you, Mr Rosenbaum," Kincaid said. "I hope we can work together another time."

The heavy-lidded eyes blinked once and that might have meant yes, no or maybe. Kincaid smiled anyway and allowed the Bodyguard to walk him to the door.

"You made the right choice, Mr Kincaid," the Bodyguard told him. "Mr Rosenbaum does not give second chances."

There was a click of the fingers and KeithorJake materialised.

"Please take Mr Kincaid to his hotel." The Bodyguard turned back to Kincaid. "Enjoy your stay in London."

"Yeah."

Now he could relax.

* * *

><p>It had been an expensive restaurant and Danny had been completely obnoxious. Rosenbaum looked like he was regretting ever inviting Kincaid to visit. By the time they returned to the office, Rosenbaum's civility was perilously thin.<p>

"So. Have you been able to make up your mind, Mr Kincaid?" he asked as he sat down behind the desk.

"Yes." Danny stood and cracked his knuckles. "I've decided I want to sleep on it."

Rosenbaum stared at him. "You want to…"

"To sleep on it," Danny repeated, enunciating each word. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"The hell you will," Rosenbaum muttered. He buzzed his intercom and the two men from the airport appeared. "Escort Mr Kincaid and his luggage out."

"Out?" The note of surprise was rich in Danny's voice.

"Out," Rosenbaum said. "And don't even think about bringing any trouble to my door because I have protection."

"You may be some hotshot in the States but you're nothing over here and I'll make sure you stay that way."

Danny spluttered all the way to the pavement outside.

* * *

><p>KeithorJake pulled up at the Dorchester and hopped smartly out to open the door for Kincaid. Kincaid didn't even bother with a "thank you". He headed straight up the steps and into the lobby.<p>

"Can I help you, sir?" the receptionist asked.

"Dominic Kincaid," he announced and waited impatiently as she scrolled through the names. He was ready to get to his room and be pampered.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't find your name."

"Can't find my…look again."

"I have looked again, sir-"

"I have a room booked here." Kincaid drew himself up to his full height and leaned across the counter. All the intimidation that he'd been feeling from Rosenbaum and his men came rippling right back out. "Get me someone who can read."

"Hannah, I'll take this." A woman whose badge announced her as Debbie the Deputy Manager slid smoothly into view. "What seems to be the-"

"The problem?" Kincaid finished with a snap. "The problem is I've got a fucking room booked here and your trainee can't find it."

The woman's smile grew frosty. "Please do not swear, sir."

Huh. The woman was American. She was doing her best to disguise the accent but it was there. Maybe he should drop the aggressive and go for the friendly. Kincaid flicked her a smile.

"I got a room booked here. A special rate. Just check again."

She did and shook her head. "You are not booked in, sir. If you do want a room-"

"Of course I do," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then I can take payment now. That will be £350."

"Three hundred and-" Kincaid stared at her. "Just a normal room."

"This is the Dorchester, sir."

Right. No such thing as a normal room. Well, he didn't fancy dancing round London with all these diamonds. And he'd been looking forward to relaxing in luxury. Celebration was surely in order.

"Alright," he said begrudgingly and fished out his wallet. "Here." He handed over a credit card.

The credit card was dutifully tried and in his head, Kincaid was already stretching out on a soft bed and drinking champagne.

"This doesn't work, sir," Debbie murmured, handing the card back.

What the…

"Try this one," he ordered, giving her the MasterCard and then watching in disbelief as she swiped it and shook her head.

"Ridiculous," he spat. "Try this one."

The Amex didn't work. Nor did any of his current account cards. He stared at his wallet like it didn't belong to him. What the fuck… Not to worry. He could get cash wired to him. He just needed somewhere to crash and he didn't have £350 in loose change to buy a room at the Dorchester.

His fingers ran over Zeke's card. Zeke had been a sound guy. Maybe he had a room for the night after all.

* * *

><p>"Keith?" Turk still wasn't letting it lie. "Do I look like a Keith?"<p>

"I'm saying nothing, man," Basher muttered as Virgil smirked.

"Quiet, guys," Danny shushed them as Rusty's phone rang.

Rusty answered and then glanced over and shook his head. Not Kincaid.

"I would say this was a good day's work," Reuben said thoughtfully, looking at the pile of diamonds on the table.

Yen executed a neat bow and Isabel smiled and picked up one of the jewels to study.

"They're pretty," was her verdict.

"Certainly been a busy day," Saul said. "Linus, you did good."

Linus flushed and Danny hid the smile. So many years on and Linus was still thrilled with the praise.

"You think we're OK?" Linus said to cover the moment. "You think Livingston's card thing worked?"

Frank gave a sharp intake of breath. "_Big _mistake," he murmured and bent his head again over Tess's hands with his nail-file. "You got nice hands," he told her.

"Thanks," Tess said and then frowned. "Why is it a big-?"

"Card thing?" Livingston looked over indignantly from the mess of IT he was sat in. "We're talking a sophisticated wipe mechanism built into an ordinary business card. And of course it-"

"That was Debbie," Rusty said, hanging up and gathering all their attention effortlessly. "Kincaid's cards are all wiped."

Livingston shot a _"Told you so"_ look in Linus's direction: Linus held his hands up apologetically.

Danny nodded. "I guess that means-"

Rusty's other phone rang. "Zeke Crawford."

"_We're on,"_ Danny mouthed to the rest of the room.

* * *

><p>AN: more to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

Travel by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own any Ocean's character. It's nearly Christmas though. *checks under tree hopefully*

A/N: Day 23 of the 2011 Advent Calendar.

* * *

><p>This trip to London hadn't gone anywhere near as smoothly as Kincaid had hoped. However, Zeke had seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him and the apartments really were just round the corner from the Dorchester. It truly wasn't five minutes before Kincaid was hurrying up the steps, attaché case in hand, and a uniformed doorman tipped his top hat and opened the door to usher him in.<p>

"Mr Kincaid? Mr Crawford said to expect you."

There was another smartly-dressed man behind a large mahogany desk inside who came forward to greet him and escort him upstairs to where Zeke was waiting for him.

"Dominic!" Zeke was as pleased in person as he'd sounded on the phone. "Come on in. Let Matthew take your jacket and come and sit down."

* * *

><p>Frank walked into the master suite and grinned at Basher's top hat. "You pulled the short straw there, man."<p>

Basher scowled. "Happen to think I can carry off a hat."

Frank looked doubtful. "What do you think, Isabel?"

"A man in uniform?" she smiled. "What's not to like?"

Basher smirked as Frank shook his head and handed over Kincaid's wallet to Livingston who removed Zeke Crawford's card and then took out all the bank cards and studied them, making meticulous note of the numbers before reinserting them and handing the wallet back to Frank.

"You set?" Danny asked Yen. Yen indicated that he was. With some of his fingers. "Alright then."

* * *

><p>There was a lovely light supper courtesy of Zeke's Oriental chef and Matthew reappeared and poured the wine. Then there was whisky and cigars and the conversation was engaging and entertaining. By the time Kincaid was shown to his own room for the night and his head had hit the soft pillow of the soft bed, this trip to London was starting to redeem itself.<p>

* * *

><p>"So what's Livingston doing?" Tess asked, watching him at work.<p>

"We need to find the bank account that Kincaid's opened on Jimmy Allen's behalf," Danny said in a low voice. "All his other accounts will show patterns of information – security questions, passwords, handwriting…"

"OK," Tess nodded and then frowned. "So what's Livingston doing?"

Danny opened his mouth and closed it again and was rescued by Livingston.

"I'm sending out a tracer into finance cyberspace. It'll log and track all the configurations and group them and…_there._" The triumph in his voice was unmistakable. "That's the account but from the inside out."

Danny and Tess dutifully squinted at the screen and then simultaneously, they met each other's eyes. Danny grinned and Tess was struggling not to laugh. Yeah. Incomprehensible.

She touched his arm and inclined her head and they moved to one side of the room.

"So, we have the bank account. And we have the money and the diamonds. And Rosenbaum-"

"Rosenbaum thinks Dominic Kincaid is an ill-mannered time-waster," Danny said. "Don't weep too much for Rosenbaum though. Apparently, he doesn't have the healthiest of reputations when it comes to a fair deal."

Tess digested this and nodded slowly then looked up at him with anxious eyes. "And is it really going to work the way you say?"

Danny smiled. "We'll find out."

"But what if Rusty isn't able to-"

"Then Kincaid's still the proud owner of a heap of glass. But Rusty'll be able."

"How do you know?"

Danny hesitated, trying to think of a way to quantify instinct and belief. In the end, he settled for, "Because he is."

She looked like she might accept that.

The door opened and Rusty arrived.

"Kincaid's out for the-." He glanced at Livingston's monitor and the smile broke out on his face. "You got the account."

"Yeah," Livingston beamed. "And now I just need to erase Jimmy's details and that will leave the original person who set it up as the account holder…" He tapped at a few keys and then sat back with a satisfied smile. "Done."

"Good." Danny nodded over at the activity in the corner. "We ready with the suitcase?"

"All done," Virgil replied a moment before Turk could.

"Right." Danny looked at Rusty.

_Right._

"Frank's on the desk downstairs. Basher and Yen are keeping him company."

They both glanced at the TV screen where Kincaid was dead to the world.

"We'll handle the watch. You can hit the sack," Danny offered. "You're on first."

"Who's on first," Rusty corrected absently, studying the screen. "Well-"

"Well, nothing," Isabel told him firmly.

_Huh._

Isabel raised an eyebrow and Rusty let out an exasperated sigh.

"Great," he muttered. "Two of you."

Danny's smile was wide.

_She's good._

* * *

><p>Kincaid had had pleasant dreams and woke to warmth and a happy world in which he was the proud new owner of several diamonds. He yawned his way out of bed and found the bathroom where there were complimentary toiletries waiting. He smiled. He'd told Zeke the story of his missing suitcase last night and he guessed that the ever-efficient Matthew had been despatched to provide the necessary.<p>

A shower and a shave later and he wandered out of the room and went looking for Zeke to thank him. Zeke was sitting at the table with a morning paper and he beckoned Kincaid in and insisted he have breakfast with him.

Kincaid hesitated.

"What time's your flight?" Zeke asked.

"Two o'clock," Kincaid conceded and sat down to toast and orange juice – freshly squeezed not concentrate, naturally.

His phone rang just as he'd eaten the last mouthful of toast.

"Mr Kincaid? We've found your suitcase."

Kincaid grinned. All was definitely right in his world.

The case was delivered just before midday to the apartments and Matthew brought it up to Zeke's apartment. Kincaid excused himself and took the case over to one side to check it over.

"Is it all there?" Zeke asked.

"Yeah."

It was. Down to his blue toothbrush.

"Good. You want to freshen up and then I'll get Marcus to drive you to Heathrow."

"Marcus?"

"The guy on the door. He'll get you there with time to spare."

"Thanks," Kincaid said and meant it for once. He grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Marcus was true to Zeke's word and Kincaid strode into Heathrow and up to the priority check-in desk, his mind on the next steps with Jimmy Allen. He'd make the call tomorrow and reel in Jimmy. Set up a meet and let the man see the diamonds, handle the goods, incriminate himself. Put the fear of God in him. And then that thorny little problem would go away.<p>

He headed through security with his attaché case, still running through plans in his head. He'd get Jimmy to make the phone call to the fence and he'd record it and-

"Excuse me, sir." The voice broke into his thoughts and dread crawled down his spine as he looked up to see three security men blocking his path. "Please will you come with us."

* * *

><p>Later and he was sitting in a little interview room and he'd been in this kind of room before but he'd been the one asking the questions. Now he was sat in a plastic chair being given the silent treatment by a white-haired guy who wasn't giving anything away.<p>

"What's this about?" Kincaid asked yet again and yet again, White Hair smiled and said it was a procedural thing.

Kincaid's gaze flicked over to the good-looking dark-haired woman leaning up against the wall, watching him. Shit, she looked like the bad cop out of the pair.

His attaché case sat on the table in front of him and Kincaid was doing his best not to look at it. They couldn't possibly have seen anything through the lining. Could they?

The door opened and a man brought his suitcase in and handed it to White Hair.

"Ah, thank you, Flynn."

The woman tapped the attaché case. "Care to open this, Mr Kincaid?"

No. No, he really didn't. Kincaid licked his lips.

"You can help us out, Mr Kincaid, or we can help ourselves."

The bitch would too. Dully, he clicked the case open and watched as she ripped the lining out. He waited for Rosenbaum's diamonds to appear, all flashfire and dazzle. There was nothing. Kincaid frowned.

"You look puzzled, Mr Kincaid," White Hair said. "Missing something?"

Zeke. Had to be that fucker. When he'd changed his clothes, Zeke must have gotten curious. Still. They didn't have anything on him. Looked like Zeke had done him a favour. One that he'd have to be sure to repay. He smiled, confidence returning.

"Not sure what you're looking for but this is all a big mistake." He leaned forward and leered at the brunette. "You want to strip search me to check?"

She didn't react past a raised eyebrow and he sat back, disappointed.

"Do you want to open this also for me, Mr Kincaid?" The bitch tapped the suitcase.

Puzzled, Kincaid obliged. There was shit all to worry about in there. The woman moved forward and tipped out the contents then produced a knife and slit the lining, ripping it open.

Kincaid stared. Money. Diamonds. What the fu-

"Mr Kincaid," the white-haired guy said, "you _have _had a busy trip to London."

* * *

><p>Isabel walked into the business lounge and found Rusty building a tower of ice-cubes. He looked up with a smile.<p>

"All sorted?"

Isabel nodded. "Collington's charging him. They've got dirty cash and dirty diamonds. That should be enough to hold him and with a little nudge they'll find the bank account. Collington's going to let me know how it goes."

She'd known Collington from her Interpol days and she'd suggested and they'd listened and put aside whatever other way it was going to work. She supposed agile response was part of what made them marvellous.

"Good." Rusty reached over and took her hand and kissed it. "Come and sit down and see if I can make it all the way to eleven."

"With the ice-cubes?"

Rusty's grin bloomed in the way she loved. "Yeah. Why, what did you have in-"

"So." She cut him off because that could wait till later. 'You want me to sit next to Tess on the way back so that you can help Danny with the inflight entertainment system? Because whatever he says, I swear he didn't mean to watch _101 Dalmatians _with Arabic subtitles."

He chuckled and then his face grew serious. "This has been…"

She nodded. It had. "Where are the others?"

"Duty-free shopping. They'll be back soon enough to say hi and bye and let's do this again some time soon."

"And will we?"

"Probably. It's the way it goes. Here. Let me get you a drink."

He stood up and she sat down. After a moment, she took over the ice-cube stacking.

* * *

><p>Danny and Tess reappeared as the tower had reached ten.<p>

"You smell nice," Rusty told Tess as she sat next to him.

"Not as nice as Linus," Danny said, sitting next to Isabel.

"What happened to Linus?" Isabel wanted to know.

"Turk and Virgil," Tess sighed.

_Ah…_

"How did it go with Kincaid?" Danny asked.

"Successfully," Isabel said. "Livingston can tell Jimmy to relax and retire happy."

"Oh, good!" Tess exclaimed.

Danny gave her an affectionate smile. Seemed Tess's sense of right and wrong was realigning slightly. He glanced over at Rusty.

_Had fun?_

_Yeah. _

_We could do it again sometime._

_Oh, I think we could._

Tess was staring at the ice-cube tower. "Why…?"

Danny smiled and picked up an ice-cube to place on top. "Because," he said simply.

And that was all the reason they needed.

* * *

><p>AN: hope you enjoyed. And Merry Christmas!


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